


In the Shadow of St. Bart's

by mybelovedcheshire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, a little creepy, and blood, collywobbles imminent, dark!Molly AU, etc - Freeform, mentions of body parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/pseuds/mybelovedcheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of short drabbles featuring dark!Molly Hooper. Each chapter is an individual story, of sorts, describing some of dark!Molly's more ... interesting moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Grisly, Little Sight

“Molly? Hey, you in here?” Lestrade leaned into the doors to the hospital’s morgue, eyes focused on the open file in his hands. “Got a question for you about these results...” 

St. Bart’s young mortician stood at a sink, calmly washing her hands. “Yeah, sure!” She answered, smiling as she glanced at him. “What’s up?” 

Greg shook his head, putting the folder he carried down on a table before turning it towards her so that she could read it. “Probably nothing, but I ran this by Anderson, and he says there’s an anomaly here...” He pointed to a sharp spike in a graph. “Says it’s probably an error, but that we should run the test again. Think you’ve got time?” 

Molly bit her lip as she leaned forward, looking over the chemical analysis. She was a grisly, little sight with shiny splashes of blood all over her apron -- but eerie and a little bit grotesque was the essence of her profession. 

“Yeah, that is a bit funny, isn’t it? Uhmm.” She answered, pausing to consider something. “I’m in the middle of something. Are the samples in here?”

The DI nodded. “Everything.” 

She offered him a beamy smile. “Okay great. Sure, I’ll get to them just as soon as I’m done. And I’ll text you if I find anything.” 

“Perfect,” Lestrade answered. “And thank you so much Molly,” he added, as he stepped back towards the morgue’s doors. “You’ve been such a big help on this case. Keep it up, and we may have to press you to come work for Scotland Yard!”

“Oh, no!” She cried, laughing. “Can’t have that! What would good old St. Bart’s do without me?”

“They’d manage somehow,” Lestrade grinned. “Bye, Molly.” He retreated, leaving her alone in the lab to continue her work. 

He didn’t remember until he’d gotten out to his car that large quantities of bright, red blood didn’t come from dead people.


	2. This Little Piggy is Dead

Sebastian referred to it as ‘putting on his face’. It wasn’t inaccurate -- before he left the apartment, Jim would pause, smile and strut out into the corridor as a completely different man from the cold, expressionless reptile that lived inside. The mask itself changed every day, depending on the circumstances, but his habit of smiling always stayed the same. 

He grinned as wide as anything before he stepped into Molly’s morgue. The lights were out, and the medical equipment cast long, eerie shadows across the floor. Anyone else might have been bothered, but to Jim -- well, it was all rather boring, wasn’t it? His eyes widened as he stepped into the room, trying to adjust to the low light. His mouth fell into an awkwardly concerned ‘o’ shape as he tiptoed towards a door in the far corner -- Molly’s work room. 

A more caring person might’ve called out -- alerted the poor mouse of a girl to his presence -- but he’d always been sinfully curious about how a person like her could come to be involved in such a dark and odd profession. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have noticed her -- couldn’t have cared for her even a little bit -- if it weren’t for that one oddity. 

As he approached, he heard her murmuring -- singing, maybe? But the words were muffled by the heavy door. So the little mouse sang to herself to keep the ghosts at bay? How delightfully sweet of her. What a fun thing to do while you were all alone in the dark with the cadavers. 

Lifting his chin, he took a deep breath -- much like an actor, gathering his wits before trotting on stage -- and pulled the door open. “Hey Molly,” he began, in that soft, nervous tone he’d adopted for this particular role. “I thought maybe we could go get--...”

Molly was staring at him like a frightened rabbit, while holding a severed human hand. 

Jim’s disguise vanished, and the consulting criminal raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but when do you ever need to cut off someone’s hand during an autopsy?”

Molly chewed on her lower lip. “Never,” she answered quietly, unfazed by her sort-of boyfriend’s changed behaviour. “I just think it’s fun.”

Jim stared.

“They’ll never know!” She assured him, and almost immediately went back to beaming in that genuine, cheerful way of hers. “Look, see -- he’s got this watch,” she pulled a fancy wristwatch from her apron pocket. “It’ll go right over the scar -- no one ever touches the bodies, you see. So no harm done.”

“Right...”

“What were you saying? Something about going out?” She asked, laying the severed hand and its watch to rest across the dead man’s chest. 

“Lunch, yeah,” he replied quietly, still watching her closely as his head slowly rolled from side to side. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she answered with a grin. “Just let me wash up?”

He nodded. Molly beamed and tottered over to the sink, as if nothing extraordinary had passed between them at all. 

“Also, Molly?” Jim added, suddenly curious. 

She looked over her shoulder, up to her elbows in soapy bubbles. “Hmm?”

“Were you singing ‘This Little Piggy’ when I walked in?”


End file.
